Never Ending
by twilight1801
Summary: Elena's final moments were filled with just one regret. But, luckily, third chances usually come around. My version of season four.
1. Breathing in Water

_My muse has finally returned._

_Every recognizable character, plot, setting, etc., does not belong to me._

Never Ending

As I started breathing in water, I started to recollect my life. It didn't necessarily come naturally. I had to think about remembering it. But it was happening.

I was craving to remember how I felt. I was trying to feel those amazing things that humans do, to just hold on another moment. I was living those moments, not this one. My mom's hands stroking my hair. My eyes crashing with Stefan's for the first time. Damon's lips moving with my own. It felt amazingly real.

I started feeling afraid when I stopped being able to remember. The feelings from before were gone and a feeling of irony crashed so hard over everything that it seemed to shatter and splatter everywhere in the car. In the lake. Across my skin. Everywhere. But my dad wasn't there, and his hands weren't there to hold to, and when I mouthed,"I love you", it wasn't meant for him.

When Stefan's face became visible in the divers window, I was still very conscious, but done fighting. He had saved me from this car once and a third chance for a girl like me seemed ridiculous. This was Matt's turn, he deserved it. He wouldn't fall in love with vampires. He would get married to a human and have beautiful, talented, humble children just like him. He wouldn't waste his chance.

I used my last ounce of consciousness to point towards Matt and make it clear to Stefan that I wasn't going to be saved this time. I kept waiting for him to tear my seatbelt off and grab me instead, for me to have to fight for my free will, but that was stupid of me. His eyes weren't blue.

He grabbed Matt from the car and I began to consider fighting for my life again. Maybe whatever guardian angel was bound to me would give me an extra minute of oxygen to last me until I got my seatbelt off and swam to the surface. Just maybe.

But the angel wasn't there. I looked for what seemed for a long time to me then—just a couple seconds, I suppose. No, there was definitely no one there. I didn't fight.

My body wasn't really there anymore—I didn't need it. But my mind was working. Everything was blurry, and crooked, and I wasn't thinking in words anymore, but I was conscious enough to realize what was happening.

My life was flashing before my eyes, for real this time. It was a scary feeling, because I couldn't control it—couldn't pick out the good from the bad like I had before. My emotions were flickering by so fast—innocence, love, curiosity, pain, love, lust, love, pain. It almost burned.

It only took a few milliseconds. I remember realizing that all those emotions going through me so quickly was going to be my death, not the water. My heart was slowing down from drowning, but the wall of emotions that crashed into me would cause the wounds that bled my life.

The last thing I saw was the blue of the water, the azure color that seemed so familiar. It spread warmth over me—that color. I wasn't exactly sure why until the racing of my heart gave me the energy to think one last thing.

I wish I had told Damon I love him.

Then my heart broke into two, my lungs swelled and burst, and I was dead.

_Tell me what you thought,_

_~Molly B._


	2. Moving Through Fear

_The only way updating works for me is in small bits, frequently. Enjoy._

_Any recognizable characters, settings, plots, etc., do not belong to me._

_Never Ending_

When I gained consciousness, my body was shaking. There was an overwhelming "bad" feeling hovering over me like a halo and I felt enslaved to it. I shivered and coughed, trying to dislodge the feeling from me—to find where it was and shake it off.

But I couldn't. I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that I was lying down on something hard and that there were bodies surrounding me. But the ache for clean, purified air was consuming me and I stopped fighting off the feeling and started trying to learn how to breathe.

My lungs weren't functioning. I couldn't fill them the same way I used to and the oxygen that I could siphon brought no relief to my aching body.

For a second, I thought that I might have been underwater still. That I could fight again and swim to the top. But, no. I wasn't breathing in water and I was moving through something just slightly less dense than water. Fear.

When steel hands grabbed onto my shoulders and forced me down, I lost all of the air again. When I slammed against the hard object beneath me, I recognized from the sound that the object had to be plastic. I didn't feel any more oriented knowing that.

I closed my eyes and waited until the throbbing of my left shoulder gave out. I stopped breathing. Somewhere within that time frame, I suppose, I somewhat realized what had happened. But some part of my brain was denying me the truth and fighting with yourself is useless.

I opened my eyes and focused on seeing, not just looking.

Bodies so still that they had to be dead we're surrounding me, lying on the same thing that I was on. Everything was too white and too shiny. Sterile.

A voice crashed through the rest of the fog that had been covering my brain. "Elena."

My head had lulled to the right in my quest for recognition and I turned it to the left—toward the voice. Stefan was standing over me, his hands still griping my shoulders. His eyes were bright, and amazed, and familiar. Perfect in this moment.

Calm settled quickly over me as I responded, "Stefan." I was relieved that my voice still sounded like mine.

"You need to get up, okay? I need you to stand and walk with me as quickly as you can."

I wanted to say something, but I didn't have any air left in my lungs. I knew I could just take a breath, but I didn't want to feel the ache again. So, I nodded and planted my feet on the white tile. I walked beside Stefan until we were outside the door. He placed his arm around my shoulder and started hurrying me quickly away. Almost quick enough. But I saw the sign that we left behind.

_Morgue_.

When the warmth of Stefan's arm disappeared, I swiveled my head just in time to watch him crash into the wall on my left. His body was casted by the wall, and white chips were raining down on him, coating the floor.

I stared at him in horror until another voice broke my focus. "_You are an idiot_."

I raised my head and my brown eyes crashed with pale blue ones. Damon was standing before me, clad with his usual black ensemble. No, it wasn't usual. The smirk that seemed to be permanently sketched onto his face was gone. The only thing I could recognize in his eyes was pure fury.

And it was all directed at me.

_Thank you, for reading. Reviews are phenomenal._

_~Molly B._


	3. And Who Am I?

_Though Elena usually gets special treatment from the show, I'm not okay with that. Elena will have extreme vampire-emotions just like the rest of them. The end was taken almost directly from the book series, because there is no way that I could have written it any better. But, this will be the last that I take from the series. _

_Enjoy._

_Any recognizable characters, plots, settings, etc., do not belong to me._

_Never Ending_

Looking into Damon's eyes and feeling his anger caused the familiar burn of tears to form behind my eyes. I couldn't understand why he scared me in that moment— he had never really scared me—but he did. I knew then that he could have ripped into my chest and torn out my heart.

I also knew that the side glances he was throwing toward Stefan were just as dangerous. But Stefan wasn't his concern at the moment—his body was encased in the plastering of the wall and the breaths he usually forced himself to take had ceased for now.

Somehow, I had held back the tears and the burn had stopped. The look of despair that had been engraved into my face when I heard Stefan's bones shatter against the wall was replaced with calm. I could feel the black twinge to my eyes fade and the subtle gold return.

I stared at Damon for a long time, until both of our breaths slowed to soft, uniform whispers in the quiet. Until our eyes stopped flickering to Stefan's form. Until my hands felt clammy and raw and I was forced to rub them violently against my jeans to regain feeling.

Damon broke the silence. "I thought you were dead."

I felt a smile weave onto my face. "I'm fine."

His eyes hardened again, hurt flashing underneath the surface. "Whatever. I just wanted to tell Stefan that I'm leaving in the morning."

The clamminess of my hands was now nonexistent. My entire body felt ice cold. As I took another breath to replace the air I used to speak, it felt like tiny ice shards were working their way down my throat and into my veins.

My only means of answering was a quick exhale of breath and a raised eyebrow.

He smirked and mirrored my expression. "Prior agreement."

Stefan made himself known in this moment, his voice not connected to his body, it seemed. "The agreement seems void now."

Damon turned his expression to Stefan next. I could hear him trying to dislodge himself from the wall, slowly and surely, but I couldn't take my eyes off of Damon's face.

"I stand by my word, Brother."

Stefan was standing beside me now and I turned to look at him. The left side of his face was covered with small scratches and bits of plaster. As I watched, the rest of the cuts on his façade healed, seeming to melt into the blood running down his cheek and be wiped away with his hand.

No one was saying anything. But, when Stefan grabbed my hand, my lips seemed to move themselves.

"What are you doing?" I yanked my hand away.

Damon's face changed into a strange mixture of confusion and anger. He flitted toward me and cupped my chin, tilting my head until his eyes were level with mine. His nimble fingers touched my lips, gently probing between them.

I felt the urge to bite down, but restrained it. Damon's gaze never left mine and I watched as the fluorescent lighting caught strange colors in his eyes. When Damon's finger found the sharp curve of my canine, I did bite down, nipping like a kitten.

"Do you know where we are?"

I remembered the sign from before. "We're in the hospital."

"And who is that?"

I followed his pointing finger. "Stefan," I said indifferently. "Your brother."

"And who am I?"

A grin spread across my face as I grabbed both of his hands and held them tightly in my own. I said, "You're Damon, and I love you."

_My writing is filled with small, metaphorical word changes. If you can call me out on one and correctly assume why I used one word instead of another, major props to you._

_Reviews would be phenomenal,_

_~Molly B._


	4. Forgetting

_Thanks so much for the awesome feedback. You guys are the best._

_Any recognizable plot lines, characters, or brand names are not of my own creation. No copyright infringement intended._

_Never Ending_

I haven't spoken to Damon for all of three weeks.

In all honesty, I haven't really spoken to anyone. A few words exchanged when need be, of course. But a, _"Hey, could you hand me that?" _or a, _"My shirt doesn't match, does it?" _wasn't important. Was just a filler moment in my long journey to forever.

I wasn't trying to push everyone away. Not really. But this wasn't how I had imagined vampirism. The hunger was there. So were the emotions. But everything had been twisted. The hunger was raw and primal and ugly—nothing like how Stefan and Damon made it sound. It rushed through my veins. And every moment that I wasn't feeding I felt lonely, and unsatisfied, and frustrated. The emotions that I felt weren't anything like the ones I had before. Every loud sound I heard made me want to grab something in my hands and crush it. Every time I saw one of the many pictures of my parents that were lying around the house, acidic tears formed behind my eyes.

But when I looked at Stefan, that undeniable love I had craved so badly before was nowhere to be found.

Though that could be partially because of the fact that whenever I looked into his eyes, all I could think about was my shallow voice back in the hospital. All I could feel was a horrible, heart-wrenching pain that I didn't understand.

_You're Damon, and I love you._

He didn't say anything back to me. Damon had wrenched his warm hands away from my face, and vanished faster than my new eyes could follow.

The overwhelming flurry of emotion that had been wildly pulling strings within me had subsided as soon as I had blood. Caroline had taken one of the crystal glasses that Damon used for alcohol and filled it with the amber liquid before presenting it to me. It was cold, and runny, and absolutely repulsive at first. I spat it out onto the floor and coughed for all of three minutes before throwing the entire thing into the fireplace and watching rainbows flicker against the shattered glass.

Caroline just poured another glass and held it out to me.

I had never felt so satisfied. Blood had filled every craving within me and satisfied a hunger I was sure I didn't have. There was so much life in it—so much power. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever experienced.

Caroline helped me a lot my first few days. She was calm, and didn't provoke the feelings that Stefan did. Which was almost enough.

I heard a knock on the door and used my new found speed to flit down the many stairs in my home. The wooden door was tough to open, and you had to lift it up and sideways to have any chance at it, but I succeeded. Stefan was revealed inch by inch until his entire form was shadowed against the night.

I hadn't gotten a Lapis Lazuli ring yet. I had been living like a true vampire, sulked up in my room, half asleep and half awake until nightfall when I came alive. Bonnie had offered, but I didn't hesitate to refuse. I didn't deserve any gifts.

"We need to talk, Elena."

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to encase enough air in my lungs for one word of speech. "Okay," I said, trying not to notice the bells that now rang in the undertone of my words. My hand flourished toward the living room, inviting him in.

He was kind of noisy for a vampire. The way his shoes _kaplunked_ against the wooden floors made my teeth ache, and the sound of his hand brushing against the arm of the couch as he sat had to have been deliberate.

God, I was losing it. I sat too, and clenched my fists in an effort to not scream.

"Damon is back."

I hadn't known where he had been. New Orleans, Paris, Australia, it didn't matter. The words I knew I needed to say hadn't molded correctly yet, so I had been steering clear of the boarding house, anyway.

"Oh." I clenched my fists even tighter. I felt a tiny sting as one of my nails cut into my palm.

"Yeah."

About five minutes of awkward silence passed and I took the opportunity to notice everything. Stefan had chosen to sit in the leather couch that sat against the far wall. He was leaning forward with both of his elbows on his knees and his hands rubbing his temples.

I was forced to take the chair across from him, placed in the perfect position to see the painting of a swan that I had made in second grade. I was sitting up straight, trying to find a position for my feet that didn't feel awkward. I was never comfortable in my skin anymore. I could never feel right.

Another five minutes of awkward ensued after we both tried talking at the same time, stuttered, and went back to staring into the distance.

Then, I looked at him. I really looked at Stefan. His hair was messier than usual and his eyes looked tired. But still impossibly beautiful. When his eyes met mine, I remembered to breathe once more. The betrayal was gone. Everything beautiful he had in his eyes when he looked at me before was there—gentle and precious.

I said, "Then he should have came here himself. You're not his messenger."

He nodded. "I know."

But I knew he wasn't carrying a message. If Damon had something to say to me, he _would_ be here. He would be spitting them at me in a snarky voice, driving me to an edge I didn't know existed. He would be molding my mind into something it wasn't supposed to be, evolving in front of my eyes. But he wasn't. Which meant Stefan wanted to talk about Damon.

I moved first. I took the easy way out. I always took the easy way out.

I moved until I was standing above him. I grabbed his hand and pulled him up, our gaze never breaking. I leaned up on my toes and melded our lips together.

Kissing Stefan was nothing like kissing Damon. In Stefan's arms I felt like spun glass. His lips were gentle. His hands grasped but never forced. Even now, when he couldn't break me.

Damon tore me apart with every kiss. I remember his tongue battling so forcefully with mine in Denver. Wanting control. Begging me to take it from him once he'd earned it. His hands were everywhere, pushing our bodies together, leaving behind bruises that were never painful.

As soon as I had unclasped the first button on Stefan's shirt, I was prepared for an interruption. Every time I got within a two feet radius of anyone, someone else stepped in. I had too many people to talk to. Too many people that I needed to be with. They gave me precious time to think.

But it wasn't happening. Why wasn't it happening? His shirt was on the floor now and I was straddling him in the leather chair. He was kissing his way down my collarbone. My cotton shirt was being pulled over my head.

Jeremy had been ordered away for safety and Caroline wasn't coming until morning. I didn't get another out.

This is a mistake. Neither of us want this.

But when I felt Stefan's lips on my stomach and his hands on the button of my jeans, I forced myself to forget. My confusion. The salty taste of tears on our lips that I wasn't sure who caused. And the faint sound of a heartbeat that could have been my imagination, coming from just outside my front door.

_I don't know if you understand how much my soul aches for having to give Stelena a chance. But if you do, I am so sorry. No, I'm not.;) No, I really am. Bare with me, Delena is and will always be the only endgame. _

_I'd love to hear what you thought._


End file.
